


Better Late Than Never

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: As if the anxiety leading up to his mother's trial wasn't already bad enough, it deepens once the Wizengamot denies Draco's request to temporarily leave Hogwarts to attend.  His life only gets more frustrating when the aftermath of a Quidditch accident forces him to interact with the one witch he's been ignoring all year — stirring the question of why she was present at the match in the first place.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 41
Kudos: 411
Collections: DFW Birthday GOGO Fest 2020





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/gifts).



> Written for NuclearNik as a part of the Dramione Fanfiction Writers' GOGO Birthday Celebration 💜 She asked for Hogwarts Eighth Year and Enemies to Lovers, so you'll have to forgive my complete rejection of the word count limit in my attempt to properly tell this tale. I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> Endless love to LightofEvolution and mcal, the most wonderful support team around :)

The daily barrage of owls flapped their wings through the Great Hall, swooping down in front of various students and delivering their post. A midnight black owl landed in front of Draco, and his insides immediately clenched. Across the Slytherin table, Blaise met Draco’s eyes for a brief moment before Draco retrieved the envelope from the owl’s beak and the bird promptly flew away. The back of the envelope was sealed with a bronze wax crest containing balanced scales and the words _Ignorantia Juris Neminem Excusat —_ the logo of the Wizengamot.

Slipping his finger through the envelope’s crease, Draco opened the contents and read the response he had waited an entire month for.

_Mr Malfoy,_

_The Wizengamot has received and reviewed your request, but due to your probationary status at Hogwarts, we have determined that you must remain on school grounds for the entirety of the academic year, as was stipulated in your sentencing deal._

Draco balled up the rest of the parchment, not caring to waste his time with any more words from the Ministry. Breakfast had just become that much less appetising.

“They denied your request, I take it?”

A snorted huff flared through Draco’s nose. “Of course they did,” he sneered. “They always intended to. Just decided to prolong my misery and wait until two weeks before my mother’s trial to bother telling me.” His frown deepened. “First they denied my request to testify, and now I can’t even be there.”

“It’s not fair, mate,” Blaise commiserated. “But at least they agreed to keep her under house arrest while she awaited trial unlike everyone else.”

“A singular courtesy for the woman who saved their Precious Potter.” Draco’s lips twitched through a snarl. He shoved back his plate. “She’s been trapped in the Manor for nearly a year at this point.”

“Would you prefer she be in Azkaban with your father?”

Draco growled. “I prefer they’d have given her a fair trial back in July when my father and I had been sentenced!”

He could grumble all he wanted, but Draco knew the Ministry’s stance wouldn’t change. They had made it plenty clear how they intended to proceed, and there was nothing left he could do to even be there physically for his mother.

Blaise stared at Draco’s half-finished breakfast. “You should eat. The match starts in thirty minutes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Swiping his Quidditch gloves off the table, Draco swung his leg over the bench and headed to the pitch.

...

The early May breeze gusted through Draco’s hair as he zipped through the skies. Surrounding him in the stands was a sea of green and yellow, hundreds of students cheering for their houses in the second to last inter-house match of the year. With the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match still a few weeks away, it was imperative that Draco catch the Snitch if he wanted to push their point total above Ravenclaw’s. For as long as he could remember, Draco had dreamed of lifting the enormous, silver trophy in victory, and this was his final chance.

His eyes darted across the blue expanse, searching for the fluttering wings and speck of gold. But as much as he tried to lose his thoughts in the roar of the crowd, it wasn’t working. He kept thinking about his mother’s trial.

 _There’s nothing you can do right now_ , he coerced his brain. 

With a firm hold on the handle of the Firebolt Deluxe that Draco had purchased in celebration of his own evasion of Azkaban, he cut through the air to the opposite side of the stadium and scanned the area. He searched the perimeter of the field, the sky up above, and all the space in between. No sign of the Snitch. But as his vision swept over one of the Hufflepuff stands, his pursuit halted.

He blinked several times, convinced it was a cruel trick his mind was playing. They hadn’t spoken all year — for good reasons of course. In moments of duress, though, he could still picture her contorted face on his drawing room floor. Surely, this was just one of those occasions. The war was on his mind because of his mother’s trial. 

Taking a loop around the pitch, Draco resumed his hunt for the Snitch, once more finding nothing. Inadvertently, his broomstick once more hovered in front of the same Hufflepuff pitch, and still, he saw her. But this was no illusion; it was really her. And it appeared she was scribing something in a notebook. 

_Typical._ She wasn’t even fully paying attention to the game. 

His trance was interrupted when she looked up from her notebook and their eyes locked. They stared at one another, broomstick oscillating beneath Draco as the game flitted from his focus.

Suddenly, her face blanched and she arose from her seat. She seemed to shout something, right as a hard object slammed into Draco’s head and everything turned black. 

...

There was a distant ringing in Draco’s ears when his eyelids fluttered to life, revealing the blurred scenery of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Emitting a low grumble, Draco rubbed his eyes and peered at his bedside table. No cards, no treats, not a single item wishing his well being and a fast recovery — just a stack of textbooks and someone sitting in a chair next to him. First instinct expected it to be Blaise, but it was a witch, one with a book in her hands and a mass of bushy curls. 

She must have noticed his stirring, for she set down the book and folded her arms across her chest. “Took you long enough. Madam Pomfrey said the Dreamless Sleep she gave you was supposed to wear off half an hour ago!”

The pain in Draco’s head swelled. “Don’t expect an apology,” he grumbled as he pushed himself upright, forcing a grunt out of him. “I don’t recall inviting you, and I doubt you came on your own volition. So what, must I ask, do I owe the honour of Gryffindor’s princess bestowing me with her presence?”

“I’m only here on Head Girl duties,” Granger bluntly levelled. “A Bludger hit you directly in the head, so you’ve missed a full week of classes. You have a lot of classwork to catch up on if you don’t want to fall behind this close to our N.E.W.T.s.”

Reaching down to a bag beside her, she retrieved a few sets of scrolls and placed them on top of the stack of books. “The professors each provided notes on what you missed during their lectures, as well as assignments that need to be completed with accompanying suggested readings. We have a Charms exam next Thursday, and the Potions paper is now due in two weeks instead of one.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Questions?”

“No.”

“Good.” 

Granger shoved her book back into her bag and stood to leave. 

Fine by Draco. 

The conversation was clipped and brief, and yet it still managed to be more words than they had exchanged all year. That was to be expected. Nothing between them had changed just because the war had ended. But despite all this, it was she who he had locked eyes with in the moments prior to the Quidditch accident. And she who had tried to warn him. 

Several paces already stood between him and Granger, but he called after her anyway.

“Actually, yes. One.”

She paused to face him. “Make it quick, Malfoy. I’m already behind my study schedule for the evening.”

“What were you doing at the Quidditch match?”

Granger planted her hands on her hips. “To my knowledge, all students are permitted to attend every Quidditch match, regardless of house affiliation.”

Draco leaned forward in bed. “Don’t try evading the question,” he chided, in no mood to entertain her games. “It’s common knowledge that you aren’t a fan of the sport, and you don’t have any friends on the Slytherin or Hufflepuff teams to cheer on, so it isn’t that either. Unless…” Draco narrowed his eyes, pausing to examine her reaction. “Have you finally moved past Weasley and started dating someone on the Hufflepuff team?” A mischievous twinkle now shone in his gaze. “If I recall correctly, you have quite the thing for Quidditch players.”

“I do not!” Her lips pressed together flatly. 

“Really now?” Draco chuckled. “Let’s see. First there was Krum, and we can’t forget Weasley, as much as I disagree with the sentiment of deeming him a ‘Quidditch player.’” He knew he was crossing a line, but the words pressed past his lips anyway. “And I recall there being someone else in there…”

Any speck of lightness in Granger’s eyes promptly darkened, her posture now rigid. “We agreed to never discuss that.”

“It’s been over two years,” Draco plainly countered. “I’ve held my tongue long enough.”

“Two years is not the same as _‘never!’”_ she now fumed. “And it was only _one_ time, Malfoy. When both of us were at a low. We just needed something to distract us.”

“Oh really? So that’s why you let me fuck you in that fourth floor classroom?”

Granger’s face paled. Two sharp glances to either side confirmed that no one was around to overhear before she leaned in and pointed a finger at his chest.

“You were merely the person who would make Ron the most jealous,” she sneered in a harsh whisper. “Nothing more than that.”

Draco craned inward. “Bullshit,” he pointedly pronounced. “News of you sleeping with Longbottom’s _toad_ would have made Weasley jealous. If you were looking for options, you had them. McLaggen made it no secret how much he lusted after you. And Merlin knows the bloke would have made sure the whole school heard he had gotten you.” A devilish smirk quirked his lips. “But it’s impossible to make Weasley jealous if not a single soul knows about the way your whimpers echoed in the classroom while I—”

The hard crack of her palm smacked across his cheek.

“That’s enough!”

Her words echoed in the otherwise empty Hospital Wing, Pomfrey presumably in her office. Meanwhile, the sting from the force of her blow burned the entire left side of Draco’s face.

He scowled. “You slapped me!”

“And _you_ deserved it!” 

“I was merely stating facts!”

“Facts that I said I didn’t want voiced aloud!”

She hauled her bag over her shoulder. 

“You will never speak of that night again, understood?”

Turning on her heels, she stomped out the room, permitting Draco to tend to his throbbing cheek and now pulsing headache. 

…

It wasn’t long after Granger’s departure that Pomfrey emerged from her office and noticed with horror the swollen redness that agonised Draco’s face. She chastised Draco for whatever he had done to prompt such a reaction — because obviously it must be _his_ fault — before doing some final tests and determining him to be recovered enough to return to his dorm.

Blaise caught him up on most of the school gossip he had missed the past week — including the fact that Slytherin had lost to Hufflepuff by eighty points, all but eliminating them from House Cup contention. But for as much as Draco wanted to care, he didn’t have the energy. Despite having been in a Potion-induced dormant state the past week, he was still severely tired. He hardly made it past curfew before closing the curtains to his four-poster bed and bidding the world goodnight.

But when the darkness covered his vision and his mind drifted off into slumber, images of that night from sixth year danced across his dreams. 

It had been a late night in January, and Draco had spent all evening researching ways to complete the mission he’d been tasked with. Months had passed since his failed attempt with the necklace, and Snape was now pestering him for updates on a near-daily basis. They were hardly three weeks into the new term, and already, he was behind. On top of all that, Christmas holiday had been a miserable, sullen affair. The pressure was getting to him.

When Hermione had confronted him on his way back from the library about how he had skipped his most recent Prefect patrol, Draco had already been on the edge of breaking. Their voices boomed through the corridors until their heat and fire turned so potent, the next thing Draco knew, their battle of wills had turned into a colliding of tongues. 

With hands gripping at each other’s robes, they somehow managed to locate an empty classroom in which the rest of the night became a blur. Fervent, frenzied kisses had passed between them while Draco channelled all the stress that had consumed him the last several months into ravishing the witch he’d been raised to detest. Her body pressed beneath his as he laid her across a desk and grasped at her breasts, eliciting a mewl that still sometimes whispered in his ear. They lost themselves in one another and by the time their pleasures had climaxed and their robes had been replaced, they had already agreed to not say a single word. 

For a few days after that, Draco had actually been happy. It didn’t last long.

As Granger had said, what had happened between them was a one-time thing. The rest of the year passed without another encounter or even desire for there to be one. 

Which was precisely why Draco scolded himself when he awoke the next morning with his length firmly tented inside his pyjamas.

...

When breakfast came, Draco pushed around his fried tomatoes while staring at Granger studying her book.

“You know, you really don’t have to blame yourself for the loss, mate.”

Draco pulled his attention to Blaise. “I wasn’t.”

The other wizard didn’t look convinced. “Barlow played dirty. A Bludger isn’t supposed to be hit within three feet of another player.”

But Draco had already lost interest in what had happened with the Bludger.

“What have you heard about Granger lately?”

Blaise canted his head. “Granger?” He followed Draco’s gaze which had returned to the witch seated at the long table on the opposite side of the Great Hall. His forehead scrunched. “What’s she got to do with any of this?”

“I saw her at the game. She was in the Hufflepuff stands.”

“You think she jinxed the Bludger or something?” Blaise asked. “Because I’ve heard rumours of the ruthless things she’s capable of!”

Draco coughed on his sip of orange juice. “No, I don’t think she jinxed the Bludger! It was a nasty shot, you just said so.” He spread some jam across a piece of toast. “I simply find it suspicious she was at the game when her house wasn’t playing.”

Blaise shrugged. “Perhaps she’s dating someone on the Hufflepuff team?”

“Maybe.”

But based on Granger’s reaction yesterday, Draco suspected that wasn’t the case. 

...

Over the next several days, Draco kept a mindful watch on her. Meals in the Great Hall, passings in the corridors, study time in the library. He made sure to maintain his distance, never getting close enough to actually rouse suspicion, but every now and again, he would catch her peering over at him as well before frowning and returning to whatever she had been doing. Her resentment towards their last conversation clearly hadn’t faded.

It was now three days before his mother’s trial, and not much had changed. Granger was seated beside the female Weasley and a couple of other Gryffindors Draco didn’t care about while they all chatted over dinner. Towards the end of the meal, they stopped by the Ravenclaw table, but the only person they spoke to was the Lovegood girl. Lovegood sprang from her seat and joined the group as they left the Great Hall, Granger among them. Not once had she stopped by the Hufflepuff table — just like she hadn’t any other meal. 

Draco set down his silverware and dismissed himself. He was done watching.

He kept a sizable gap between them as the group of friends split off, leaving Granger walking alone in the direction of the library. Draco seized his chance.

“Tell me the real reason you were at the match.”

Granger turned to glance at him from over her shoulder but didn’t stop walking. “Drop it, Malfoy. It doesn’t matter.”

Draco jogged to catch up. “You may not think so, but I’m curious and want the answer,” he stated. “Surely you understand the frustration of being curious about something and not being privy to the answer despite it being right there?”

A side-long glare shot his way. She released a huff and clenched a notebook tighter in its hold across her chest. With a jutted up chin, she started walking faster.

Draco called after her. “Or if you prefer, we could talk more about how it felt to have your legs wrapped around my torso and—”

“Do you _want_ to be slapped again?”

Her face matched the scarlet stripes of her tie, the witch now halted to face him. Draco merely smirked.

“Third time’s a charm.”

She scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“ _You’re_ hiding something.”

“And it’s none of your business!”

She squeezed the notebook closer, and Draco pulled out his wand to charm it out of her grip.

Her nostrils flared while she swatted at empty air. “Give that back!”

“As soon as you tell me your real reason.”

A glimpse of her stony glare and clenched jaw marked the periphery of Draco’s vision as he leafed through her notebook, enjoying just how much it was riling her up. His entertainment promptly ended, though, when he noticed his name on every single page. He tore through them all, mind only catching snippets of what everything recounted, but the purpose of the notebook was clear.

“Are you _spying_ on me?”

In his incredulous state, his hold on the notebook loosened, allowing Granger to snag it back.

“Not spying,” she defended, slamming the notebook into her bag before glaring at Draco. “Just keeping an account of your actions for McGonagall and the Ministry in case something happens.”

His body tensed. As if that framing made it any better! Of course he knew he was only at Hogwarts on probationary status, but not once had he thought that the school would go so far as to have his actions _documented_. And _she_ had been a willing participant.

The bite of his fingernails pierced into his palms. “I’m sure you were all too willing to take on this task, weren’t you? Watch my every move until you found something worthy of getting me kicked out of here?” He released a mock laugh before sneering out, “I bet they have a cold, dark Azkaban cell right down the hall from my father, waiting for me. Cause that’s what you’d like, isn’t it?”

Outrage ignited in his eyes, hardly able to stand the look at her as she just stood there, features stern and devoid of any remorse.

Heat flushed through his body. “I did my best to make sure you didn’t get hurt in my manor, and this is how you repay me?” He spat at her feet. “Fuck you, Granger.”

...

His anger had hardly dissipated by the next afternoon when Draco was seated in the courtyard and heard the sound of something being slammed down onto his bench.

He ignored the witch standing directly in front of him. 

“I kept copies of everything. Do whatever you want with them.” 

She left without another comment. 

Draco considered casting an _Incendio_ on the pile of notebooks. The past eight months weren’t something he needed to relive from her biased perspective. Yet the niggle of curiosity itched at his brain and forced the top notebook dated _September 1998_ into his hands. 

He skipped dinner that night and stayed up late reading and re-reading every word on the pages. After their Charms class the next day, he confronted Granger.

“There’s not a single mean thing about me in any of those notebooks.” 

Granger lifted an eyebrow. “Your point?”

“Why?”

Granger picked up her textbook off her desk. “Because I haven’t seen you do a single mean thing all year. That’s why.”

Draco stood there, speechless, as Granger marched out of the classroom.

It took him a few moments to consider, but what Granger said was true. He really hadn’t done anything particularly mean all year. He supposed it helped that he didn’t have Potter and Weasley around to annoy nor the pressure of his father or Voldemort breathing down his neck. Besides for his interactions with Blaise and playing Quidditch, Draco had mostly kept to himself. 

And she hadn’t twisted any of it.

That night, he found her in the library.

She didn’t look up from her book. “Here to curse at me more?”

“No, I have a question about last week’s Charms lesson that I missed.”

Through her eyelashes, she briefed a glance at him before setting down the quill she had been taking notes with.

“Alright. What is it?”

Draco pulled back the seat next to her and retrieved Flitwick’s lecture notes.

He didn’t leave that spot for the rest of the evening.

...

Pince had to thrice tell them that the library had closed by the time he and Granger finished packing up their belongings. They hadn’t spoken much after Draco’s question, just a few short exchanges here and there when he encountered something in the notes that didn’t make sense, but having her there was — as much as he hated to admit it — helpful. 

The corridors were quiet as they headed towards the Grand Staircase, most students already in their common rooms with curfew so soon. Their footsteps were the only noise that broke the stillness until Draco spoke up.

“You could have easily gotten me expelled,” he said, hands in his pockets as he kept his gaze forward. “It would have been your word against mine. No question who McGonagall and the Ministry would have sided with.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught her shrugging. “Yes, but just as much I deserve to be here, so do you.”

“There are plenty of people who disagree with that,” he said with a grumble. “Would prefer to see me tossed into Azkaban alongside all the other convicted Death Eaters.” 

“I’m well aware,” she plainly stated. “Which is why I agree to be the one watching you. I thought I’d be the most objective.”

Draco cocked his head with a disbelieving raise of his eyebrow, but Granger held her ground.

“It’s one of my talents, being able to ignore my feelings and stick to the facts. I knew that if I was the one doing it, I at least had some control of what was being recorded.” They rounded a corner and began walking past the armour gallery. “Unless you would have preferred I let them hand it to Ernie?”

He frowned at the thought of the Head Boy. “I wouldn’t have made it past September with his streak of rash and rigid judgments.”

“Precisely.”

There was a beat of silence before Granger peered down at her shoes. 

“I was grateful for you trying not to identify us that day,” she said, voice now much lower than before. “I understood the predicament you were in.”

The muscles in Draco’s throat constricted. “It still wasn’t enough to prevent you from writhing on my ballroom floor.”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “But it could have been a lot worse.”

They reached the landing of the staircase and both of them paused.

Draco forced a hard swallow. “Just so you know, I stopped believing in all that rubbish a long time ago.” He could feel her wide eyes looking at him as he stared off at the cluttered array of portraits lining the walls. “Those things I did… He would have killed me and my mother if I didn’t… if I couldn’t… I didn’t have much of a choice.” He released a heavy breath before meeting Granger’s gaze. “Do you honestly think I would have slept with you that night if I still perceived you that way?”

“Harry was convinced you had become a Death Eater that year, but I refused to accept it,” she said, expression soft as she spoke to him. “I still held out hope that you could change.”

He lowered his chin, focus cast on the marble floor. “I did change,” he lamented. “It was just too late.”

Darkness blanketed his vision as his eyelids drifted shut, but they promptly reopened when the touch of her palm graced his cheek.

“What are you—”

With the lightest breeze, she lifted on her toes and placed her lips against his. It was different from how he remembered. Softer, gentler. Nothing like their hurried kisses from two years ago. But before he could fully envelop himself in her embrace, she had pulled away.

A sparkle illuminated her irises as she smiled at him. “Better late than never.”

...

The shining sun felt unfitting for the way it stormed inside Draco’s chest, yet he took to the skies anyway. The day had come, and all he could do was wait. His time would probably be better spent studying for his N.E.W.T.s that were just a few short weeks away, but at this point, Slytherin had a better chance at winning the Quidditch Cup than he did on concentrating on anything other than his mother’s trial.

Time seemed of little importance as he zoomed around the Quidditch pitch, not caring that he had likely missed lunch. It wasn’t until he spotted someone waiting on the grass below that Draco took any sort of break.

“I’d actually prefer to be alone right now,” he evenly stated while hopping off his broom.

As expected, though, Granger didn’t leave.

“Here.” She outstretched a scroll of parchment. “McGonagall wanted me to deliver this.”

An empty pit formed in Draco’s stomach. “Is it…”

She nodded.

Undoing the string, Draco unravelled the parchment and read its contents. He read it once. Twice. Three times. Traces of tears glossed over his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. 

He glanced at Granger, jaw agape. “So that’s it? She’s free?”

Her lips were pressed together, containing the smile she must have been hiding from him. “Harry testified on her behalf.”

“I hope he doesn’t expect a fruit basket,” he partially grumbled, but the sentiment didn’t last long. “But you can express to him my gratitude.”

She grinned. “I will.”

Draco peered down to read the parchment again. His mother was cleared of all charges. No Azkaban. No more house arrest. Not even a fine. For the first time in years, the burden on his shoulders was lifted and he could feel the rays of sunshine on his skin.

Granger was still looking at him, her grin now a smile. “Still prefer to be alone?”

Draco chuckled. “Depends who the company is.”

She softly laughed. “Then let’s go for a walk.”

They exited the Quidditch Pitch and started to roam the Hogwarts grounds. The end of Draco’s broom rested on his shoulder while he and Granger strolled the outline of the Great Lake.

“It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?” she asked, kicking a few pebbles with her shoe. “Knowing that in a little over a month and a half, we’ll be leaving here for good?”

Draco shrugged. “Can’t say I’ll miss it too much. I’m ready for something fresh,” he admitted before adding with a grin, “You know, some place where my moves _aren’t_ being tracked on a daily basis.”

She bumped her shoulder against his, and he let out a laugh. 

“Surely there must be something you’ll miss,” she insisted. “It wasn’t all bad!”

He let out a snort. “You’re right. Watching Weasley miss all those Quaffles fifth year was _quite_ the highlight.”

She rolled her eyes, but judging from her suppressed smile, she knew he was only teasing.

They paced a few more steps before her next question came.

“What would you change then?” she asked, her tone growing slightly more serious. “You know, if things had been… different.”

Draco sucked in a breath. “I feel like I could list twenty things,” he answered. “Not getting knocked out by a Bludger during my final Quidditch match is certainly one of them.”

But from her awaiting gaze, he could tell she wanted something more.

He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I just wish I hadn’t wasted the majority of my teenage years wrapped up in a war I didn’t fully understand until I was already sucked in,” he confessed. His vision peered across the grounds and landed on the castle he had never felt right calling home. It lingered there for only a splitter of a moment before he reverted his attention to Granger. “But I can’t change that, so I’m going to try to make the most of the time I have left.”

They exchanged brief smiles, and his heart lifted when her fingers intertwined with his.

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated and bring all the joy 💙
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr ([niffizzle](https://niffizzle.tumblr.com/)) for future story updates and to see what else I'm working on :)


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